


Evidence of Freedom

by Foophile



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Community: rounds_of_kink, Confessions, M/M, Sibling Incest, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foophile/pseuds/Foophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything was over, and after Michael had threatened to uncover the massive deception of The Company to the public, the US government had apologized the only way they could think of: by throwing a huge amount of money at them and politely asking that they leave the country.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evidence of Freedom

**“We have to laugh. Because laughter, we already know, is the first evidence of freedom.” - _Rosario Castellanos_ **

**“Laughter springs from the lawless part of our nature.” - _Agnes Repplier_ **

 

Michael was giggling softly to himself when he realized that he was completely drunk. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been allowed the opportunity, much less the want to relax with a drink (or five) and not worry about thinking.

But that was the reason why Michael was giggling at the moment. There was nothing to worry about. No classes or early morning corporate meetings or court times or government conspiracies to unravel or even brothers (or girlfriends or nephews) to save.

Michael hesitated in taking another drink and thought that not having to worry about anything only made him worry more. He took another gulp of Estrella Galicia.

A deep voice made Michael jump in surprise. “You’re thinking too much again.” Lincoln came around his side and sat with a sigh into the seat next to him. A strong wind from the coast blew over the apartment patio, five stories up, and Lincoln’s short hair shifted across his forehead. “Can’t you just enjoy the view?”

Michael couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his brother with hair longer than a centimeter and he stared for a few seconds before he could find words to say. “I’m drinking aren’t I? You can’t ask me to turn off my brain as well.”

He focused his attention on the beach a mile in front of them. There were a group of kids having a party, he could see them dancing awkwardly in mass. “How’s LJ doing?”

“He’s learning Basque faster than either of us. Making friends will do that I guess.” Lincoln took a beer from the cooler at Michael’s feet. “Is there a reason you’re sitting here all alone?”

“Who else am I going to sit out here with?” Michael’s tongue was loose and he didn’t think before answering. He glanced over at Lincoln stiffly and caught him looking.

“There’s nothing else to worry about Michael. You can make friends at work. Enjoy the city.”

“Like you are?” Michael said sarcastically. Lincoln hadn’t left the apartment to do more than find a job on a fishing boat, leave in the middle of the night to work, and return at dawn.

Michael had found a part-time job in a restaurant where he could speak English to tourists and learn the local language well enough to serve the many types of pintxos to them. The restaurant was near the Centre Kursaal and Michael spent his breaks wandering around the building. He’d already taken two guided tours and was contemplating becoming a guide just so he could study it to his satisfaction.

Neither of them needed to work, but emotionally they couldn’t imagine doing anything else but trying to return to some semblance of a normal life.

Everything was over, and after Michael had threatened to uncover the massive deception of The Company to the public, the US government had apologized the only way they could think of: by throwing a huge amount of money at them and politely asking that they leave the country.

Surprisingly, it had been Lincoln who’d suggested Spain. San Sebastian-Donostia was in a book Lincoln read in jail and after discarding Granada and Madrid as too large, Michael’s research said that San Sebastian was just big enough to disappear but small enough to live comfortably. LJ loved the beaches and could take the rail when he wanted to go exploring with his father or uncle. Michael thought he could almost see LJ dancing on the beach below.

Lincoln gulped down half of his beer, apparently trying to catch up with Michael, and muttered, “I’m here with you aren’t I?”

Michael nodded slowly and watched the sunset over the horizon. “I wasn’t worrying by the way.” He caught Lincoln's grin out of the corner of his eye.

“Sure you weren’t. You get drunk all the time.” He bent over the side of his chair for another.

Michael sighed. “I just couldn’t remember the last time I…” He trailed off at the sympathetic look Lincoln gave him. “I don’t have work tomorrow and haven’t tried the beer.”

“I get it, Mike,” Lincoln said. “Let’s just chill out, yeah?”

Michael shifted uncomfortably. The lights around the coast were turning on and painting everything in a muted yellow light. The giant cubes of the Centre sat huge and bright down the beach. “It’s so beautiful here. You did a good job picking it out, Linc.”

Lincoln chuckled. “I did, didn’t I?”

Michael couldn’t help but laugh along and lazily kick at Lincoln’s ankle. “Ass. Like you even knew where this was on a map.”

“It didn’t matter where it was,” Lincoln finished his second beer. “It wasn’t Fox River, that’s all I needed to know.”

Michael swallowed back an instinctive apology for bringing it up and they both let the sounds of the city swell around them. After Lincoln’s fourth beer, Michael had lost count of how many he’d had and figured that he should go inside before he was too drunk to walk.

He stood shakily and turned his back on the city. As he passed Lincoln, his brother’s thick arm knocked into his abdomen. Michael blinked down at Lincoln, trying to discern the anxious look in his brother’s eye.

“Do you want me to bring in the cooler?” Michael had a feeling that Lincoln’s question wasn’t what he really wanted to ask.

“Uh, sure. We can finish it off inside.” When Lincoln didn’t remove his arm, Michael frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Lincoln visibly shook himself. “Nothing. Can you, um, help me up?” His arm wrapped around Michael’s waist, making him list over to the chair.

Michael’s body went stiff at the pull but he didn’t have the energy to question Lincoln’s behavior. He gave him enough leverage to stand and made to pull away from his grasp when Lincoln crowded him close again.

“Mike.” Lincoln paused. Then opened his mouth to speak and closed it again.

It was getting dark out and a shadow covered Lincoln’s eyes. Michael squirmed, wanting to sit down as something in his gut quivered. Lincoln’s warm body combined with the cooling breeze off the coast made his skin break out in goose bumps. He let the first thing he could think of pop out of his mouth. “Don’t you have to go get LJ soon?”

The thought of LJ seemed to wake Lincoln out of his daze. “No,” He stepped back to let Michael go through the patio doors. “He’s staying at that kid Damien’s house. I gave his mom our number.”

Michael lurched through the living room to the kitchen. “LJ’s a good kid, I’m sure there won’t be a problem.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and came back to collapse on the couch.

As he closed his eyes, he could hear Lincoln puttering around the room, turning on lamps, then felt him sit next to him and place the cooler on the coffee table in front of them.

The apartment was spacious, the only thing they’d spent their hush money on other than the plane ride, and Michael made sure it was the opposite of his loft in Chicago. Instead of stark white walls, the living room was painted a warm tan with brown furniture that reminded Michael of the broken down couch they’d taken off a street corner to furnish Lincoln’s first and only apartment.

Michael chuckled to himself. “Do you remember that old brown couch? I thought it was a flea motel.” He cracked open his eyes to see Lincoln nod.

“It was possibly the most uncomfortable thing in the world.” Lincoln eyed the cooler but didn’t move. “Veronica hated it.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Did you really think that she would want to make out on that? Hell, Linc, did you really think she would stay with you?” At Lincoln’s sharp look, Michael started to say that he didn’t mean the last but then thought about it and stayed silent. He really had meant that, just never intended to ask.

Lincoln shifted on the couch with a grimace. “What is this? Truth or dare?”

“That depends on if you answer the question.” Michael replied with his hand clenched around his water bottle. He met Lincoln’s half-angry glare head on.

“I thought that I loved her, Michael. Of course I wanted her to stay with me.”

Michael started to contend that he hadn’t asked that when Lincoln spoke up again, his voice rough.

“But no, I never thought she would stay. Her father hated my guts and wouldn’t have paid her tuition if she stuck around.” Lincoln reached for the cooler and took out another beer. “There wasn’t much of a choice.”

Michael watched him gulp down most of the bottle in one breath. “I guess not.” He thought of Sara. Of the choices she’d had when her father had been murdered and finished off the water in a nervous parody of Lincoln.

“Do you remember that night after you graduated from high school? When we,” Lincoln paused and Michael’s breath caught in his chest. “When I was really high.”

Michael didn’t respond, although he remembered the night his brother was talking about as if it had happened yesterday. He’d come home from a friend’s graduation party and found Lincoln sprawled all over the couch still dressed in his dress shirt from the ceremony that morning.

Lincoln had reeked of pot and alcohol and Michael had chucked his pointed cap at him in rage. Michael had let himself say everything he’d been keeping in for so long. Called him every name he could think of and some more that Michael might have made up. Most of all, Michael remembered screaming that he hated Lincoln, never wanted to see him again, and watching as his older brother started to cry like a baby.

He’d immediately felt horrible and went over to Lincoln’s side, unsure of what to do, when Lincoln grabbed his wrist and wrestled him down on top of him. Then, on the ratty brown couch, Lincoln kissed him so hard Michael’s lips tingled for days afterward.

In the present, Michael licked his lips. “Why are you bringing it up?”

“Truth or dare, Mike. You remember it?”

Michael noticed that Lincoln had turned on his side to watch him. The beer bottle dangled from his thick fingers and Michael plucked it away and finished it off. Lincoln’s eyes didn’t leave his face, his mouth.

“You know I do.” Michael’s head felt like it was floating from his body. His limbs were heavy, trying to draw him into sleep, but the pulsing of his heart, of the blood in his veins, kept him aware of how close he was to Lincoln. At the memory, his cock had perked up despite his inebriated state.

“That’s all you have to say?” Lincoln looked annoyed.

Michael shook his head. “That’s all you’ve asked me.”

Lincoln huffed and made to move away but Michael grabbed a handful of Lincoln’s t-shirt to keep him in place. “It’s my turn to ask a question.” He chuckled again; glad that he couldn’t think of doing anything else, when Lincoln’s eyes went wide with surprise.

“Did you want to kiss me earlier on the patio?” Michael let his voice go deep, whisper soft and felt Lincoln’s body twitch in response. “Do you still want to?”

Lincoln looked like he might say something, Michael hoped it wasn’t “dare”, when instead Lincoln leaned in and gave him a kiss that seared through all of the alcohol in Michael’s body.

The kiss was nothing like Lincoln’s first all those years ago. Then, Lincoln’s mouth was rough and desperate, more teeth than actual contact with lips or tongue. Now, his mouth was wide open, burning fire across Michael’s lips with his tongue and making him instantly, painfully hard. The same reaction he’d had then.

Michael might have whimpered when Lincoln pulled away a few minutes and an eternity later. He couldn’t hear anything but his own panting breaths until Lincoln groaned, “Please say we’re not playing anymore.”

Michael responded by pushing Lincoln back, off the couch and onto the floor. Lincoln’s shoulder caught the coffee table and his cry of pain was lost in Michael’s mouth as he followed him down with an apologetic grunt.

Lincoln tasted of beer and some spicy sauce he’d had with dinner. All that Michael could think of was his taste and how much he’d wanted to feel Lincoln’s hands on him again, remember how his body had flashed so hot that his eighteen year old self had almost come in his pants.

Straddling his hips, Michael moaned into the air as those hands cupped his ass and Lincoln’s hard length ground into him. When one hand came around to unzip his jeans and pulled his cock into the cool air, he hesitated.

“No, don’t think. There’s no reason why we can’t have this,” Lincoln pleaded.

Michael looked down at Lincoln’s heaving chest, his ruddy face. Everything that Michael had risked his life to save. The hand around his cock tightened and Michael was lost.

Lincoln’s relief was sighed into his kiss. They struggled playfully for dominance, Michael grinning when Lincoln ended up between his splayed legs, pinning his arms to the carpet under them. His cock was still hard, even harder after rubbing against Lincoln’s rough shorts, and he yanked his arms from under restraining hands to pull off his shirt.

There was some wild flailing as Lincoln kneeled up to rip off his own clothes and Michael thought that he might have still been drunk at the giggling that erupted from his chest. Lincoln grabbed the fabric of Michael’s jeans and shoved them down his hips, shuffling back to let Michael kick them off the rest of the way with his boxers.

They shared sloppy kisses, Michael closing his eyes while Lincoln traveled his wet lips down his neck and torso, biting his nipples, then onto his cock, licking the head before sucking it into his hot mouth. Michael let his hands wander all over him, trailing through his new soft curly hair and over his familiar broad shoulders.

Michael bit his lip to stop from screaming then let out a weak cry as Lincoln sucked harder, trying to get him to come. He forced himself to look down, see Lincoln’s thick lips against the angry red skin of his cock and watch his cheeks hollow as he sucked.

He spread his legs further, bending at the knees, when Lincoln nudged them, feeling his brother’s hands lifting his ass up from the carpet and his mouth lifting off, licking a path down over Michael’s balls, behind them, and lower flicks across his perineum that went even lower…

Michael screamed. He came so hard at the feeling of Lincoln’s tongue on his asshole that he thought that he’d exploded into pieces and would find himself all over the room.

When he finally opened his eyes, he felt like he’d been sobbing for hours, wrung out and soggy on the plush carpet. He felt Lincoln’s hand on a thigh, still spread wide and open for Lincoln’s stare, and Michael couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Where the hell did you learn that?” Michael’s chest ached, he didn’t know why. Lincoln’s gaze as he looked over him made his body tingle as if he hadn’t just shot his brains out through his cock.

“Doesn’t matter,” Lincoln hissed his fist a blur around his own dick. Michael’s knees framed Lincoln’s hips perfectly as he knelt over him and suddenly Michael wanted nothing more than to feel Lincoln’s cock press into him, pound him into the carpet until his skin burned.

Michael’s mouth opened and he groaned, “Fuck me.”

“Shit,” Lincoln exclaimed, clamping his eyes shut. He pumped his hips into the air and came all over Michael’s stomach and cock, his hand glistening with it. Michael thought that if he’d been even slightly able to get it up again, he would have come just from the sight.

Lincoln collapsed on his side on the carpet, his eyes closed. Michael almost laughed again at the look of bliss on his face but suppressed it. The come on his skin felt like a brand and Michael touched his belly tenderly, feeling come coat his fingertips.

“God, Michael,” Lincoln cracked open an eye. He looked happy and Michael couldn’t say that was a bad thing.

He yawned, the alcohol finally catching up. “I’d say we should have done this years ago but in this case I think ‘something always came up’ would suffice.”

Lincoln grinned then grew serious. “I don’t want to hide this. Not now after everything.”

“We have to for LJ’s sake, Linc,” Michael rolled over onto his side and soaked in his brother’s warmth. “I don’t have to tell you that.”

“But when we’re alone. Can I?” Lincoln’s face was so unguarded that Michael was almost afraid. Then, he looked at the apartment around them, heard the rush of the ocean through the patio doors, and felt Lincoln’s warm palm on his face, his come cooling on his stomach.

They had a new life and Michael might have still been drunk but he felt completely sober when he answered, “Absolutely.”

END


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